


Silent Fury

by Tarlan



Series: Silent World [9]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-19
Updated: 2003-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inmate 78</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Fury

_  
Don't be afraid to be weak  
Don't be too proud to be strong  
Just listen to your heart, my friend  
That will be the return to yourself  
The return to innocence.  
 **Return to Innocence**_ by **Enigma**

 

The hole was dank and filled with the aging stench of excrement and urine, as if the body fluids of all those who had been here before him was their way of placing their mark upon this prison cell. He had felt other marks; scratches in the hard-baked walls. Some were names and dates, others were more like claw marks scraped into the earthen walls by those frantic to escape this hell-hole. Chris huddled back down in the corner, the one farthest away from what previous inmates had designated as the cesspit corner.

Chris looked up through the grating at a clear sky, recalling the same clarity and depth of blue shining from his lover's eyes. Vin. He wondered how long it would be before one of the others came looking for him; or if they would come at all. He had not been in the best of moods when he left the town for Landen. He had snapped at everyone, including Vin, but then he felt he'd had good cause at the time.

He knew it would only have been a matter of time before somebody noticed how often he was alone with Vin, and at the oddest hours. However, what he had not expected was for him and Vin to be so careless that they would be caught in a compromising act that would leave no doubt in the mind of their witness. He let his thoughts drift back to that incident.

The saloon brawl had been a little more vicious than usual; getting ugly when some of the outsiders pulled knives and started to slice at anyone within arm's reach. It had been pure fluke that he was diving aside to avoid being hit with a chair when the knife slashed towards him. It had sliced through the sleeve of his coat, tearing through the material but not deep enough to touch his skin. Vin had seen the knife flash and had leaped for the man, his own knife in hand, only to be thwarted by Josiah who grabbed the knifeman's wrist and twisted until the knife clattered to the floor, where it was lost beneath the boots of the brawling mob. Chris knew none of this at the time. Instead, he had been reveling in the pleasure of a good brawl; landing punches where he could but, fortunately, taking very few in return.

Afterwards he had stood among the fallen; laughing at the moans of pain, and he had turned to share his pleasure with Vin only to find silent fury seething behind those blue eyes.

"What's your problem, Vin? Somebody stamp on your toes?"

Vin had shaken his head; his eyes never losing the deep-set anger.

"You don't have a single idea, do you? How you nearly got yourself killed."

"Still standing."

Chris recalled throwing back the trite comment and only then realizing that Vin was too furious to deal with it. The lips that he loved to lick and kiss tightened into a thin, bloodless line; the blue eyes narrowing to slits. Chris felt his own anger build, replacing the euphoria of the moment, and he had turned away before he said something he would regret. Vin had followed him out of the saloon and across the street; the tautness of every muscle evident by the stiffness in his movement. When they reached the shadows opposite, Vin had reached out and spun Chris back to face him.

"Man had a knife, Chris. If you hadn't moved when you did then you'd be wearing it in your gut."

Vin had lifted a hand, his fingertips hovering over Chris's cheek before dropping to finger the slice in the material; drawing the damage to Chris's attention for the first time. Chris saw the rigidity leave the tensed muscles; saw a fine trembling in Vin's fingers as they played with the raw edges where the knife had sliced. His own anger faded in realization of how close he had come to being badly hurt. He lifted his hand, catching silken strands of light brown hair between his finger and thumb and tweaking it lightly. Neither of them needed to say anything more and Chris watched as the hard eyes softened in response; the fury flowing away to be replaced with resignation for the dangerous life they both led.

Chris was still not certain which of them made the first move, though he suspected that it was another of those times when their bodies seemed to move in subconscious harmony. All he recalled was that, suddenly, they were kissing, but it wasn't a kiss of passion; it was one of gentleness, of affection and of the love that they both felt but were unable to speak of, even to each other.

"What in Hell is going on here?"

They had leaped apart in shock as Buck's voice rose from the softest whisper to a thundering roar within the space of that single sentence. Neither of them bothered to make any denial of their relationship; both of them aware that Buck had seen more than enough to make his question rhetorical. For the second time that night, Chris found himself staring into fury-filled blue eyes but, unlike with Vin, he doubted Buck would react so well to a silent apology and a kiss.

The image faded and he was back in the hole with the sun beating mercilessly upon him.

"Yeah... be like adding tinder to a flame. Either that or it would have given Buck an apoplexy."

Chris laughed softly, and contritely, as he remembered the anger that refused to abate; that flared even more when Vin tried some pacifying gesture. In the end, Chris had ordered Vin to go and let him deal with Buck alone but even that had been wrong, and Chris had seen the fury leap back into Vin's eyes as Vin turned and strode away.

He pulled back further into the meager shadow, trying to find what shade he could. Soon the sun would be directly overhead, and there would be little relief from its harsh, bright rays for the two hours that it took to pass over. He had been in this hole for seven days already; his throat parched from insufficient water, his stomach hollow and aching from lack of decent food. His hair felt gritty from sweat and from the dust kicked up by the occasional guard who sauntered over to add to his misery by spitting down on him from above. His clothes were grimy from sleeping on the hard ground, and they itched like crazy from the accumulated dirt and sweat, and maybe from something more besides but he refused to dwell on that thought. However, he was loath to remove them for he needed their protection from the sun during the day and he needed them for the feeble amount of warmth they gave during the bitterly cold nights.

At the rattle of metal against metal, Chris climbed to his feet and reached for the tin mug of water being lowered through the grating, holding it carefully so he didn't spill any of the precious liquid. There wouldn't be anymore water for hours after this. A crust of stale bread dropped to the ground a few feet away and Chris crawled across to snag it. He wiped off the dust clinging to its dry surface and bit into it, chewing every mouthful slowly so he wouldn't choke on it.

Buck had been furious, and confused. He'd allowed Chris to drag him away from prying eyes and flapping ears, only holding his tongue until they were well away from the town. Chris knew Buck didn't have an issue with men preferring men despite the laws against it. Hell, the man had been raised in a brothel where all types were catered for, including those types. However, Buck had never thought Chris was one of those men before - and that was his problem.

"It ain't just any man, is it? It's Vin. All that damn hair and those big blue eyes. I'll run him ou--"

"Leave Vin out of this, Buck. He ain't responsible for how I feel and for what I do with him."

Chris frowned. That had been a lie of sorts for Chris knew he'd never felt this strongly about any other man, or woman come to that - except for Sarah - so it had to be something to do with Vin.

"All this time, Chris. I thought I knew you. Saw the way you were with Sarah, and before her, the way you'd whore around with the best of them. Hell, we even shared a woman once or twice."

A look of horror had crossed Buck's face at that moment of realization and Chris did not need to be a mind reader to know what thoughts were ricocheting around inside Buck's head. Could Buck believe Chris had only agreed to those threesomes so he could lie with Buck? Before Chris could find something to say, a wry grin had swept across Buck's face.

"Don't recall you putting your hands on anything but them fillies." Buck had turned away, one hand on his raised hip, the other hand clutching his hat by his side, all the while shaking his head as if saying 'no' to some silent question. He turned back. "No. Don't reckon you're one of them funny cowboys. Reckon the lack of working women in this town has sent you looking for the wrong type of company. Can't say I blame your choice, Chris. Vin'd make a fine partner for you -- if he were a woman." He added the final words with a snarl of contempt and Chris felt his own fury rise.

"Does make a fine partner, Buck. Don't matter to me that he's a man."

"Ain't willing to accept that, Chris. Ya was a married man once. Ya had a beautiful wife, a home, a son... Sarah was a wonderful woman, and I can't believe you didn't love her with all your heart." He shook his head again, eyes hard and unrelenting as they bored into Chris. "No. It's this town and your damn principles about courting those few scrawny working girls while prim and proper Mary Travis looks on. And here I was thinking that might be 'cause you wanted to make a move on the widow; cold though she is." Buck shook his head in disgust and Chris could see that disdain had nothing to do with Buck's thoughts on Mary Travis, and then those angry blue eyes narrowed to speculative slits. "What you need is a few days away from here. Go hole up in some brothel to reacquaint yourself with them soft curves and womanly passions. Heard there's a good 'un in Landen that'll show you the errors of your ways. You'll come back a different man."

Chris's memory of that one-sided conversation faded away as he swallowed the last piece of the stale bread. A different man, Buck had said, but Chris knew his preference for Vin wouldn't change any for staying away in Landen's brothel for a few days. As he licked the last few crumbs of stale bread off his dirty fingers he gave a snort of derision. The only difference Chris could envisage after this trip was that he'd be a lot thinner; not that he had much leeway on his size before. If he stayed in this place much longer then he had a feeling Vin's next affectionate comment on his ass would be to call it bony rather than scrawny.

With nothing else to do, Chris slept away the afternoon knowing that he would be too cold to gain much sleep once the temperature dropped after the sun set. The guard rattled a tin cup against the grate, waking him from a wonderful dream where he was spooned up behind Vin and enjoying the warmth of his lover's naked body held tight in his arms. The soft dream faded quickly, replaced with harsh reality, and he struggled to his feet so he could reach the cup of tepid water. Chris bit his lower lip in frustration when his trembling fingers couldn't hold the cup steady and some of the precious liquid spilled over the edge to soak away into the dusty ground. He drank the water quickly but in small sips, caught between the fear of losing it through vomiting and the fear of it being taken away if he took too long to drink.

"Slow down. You'll make yourself sick."

Chris looked up into the hard face of the head guard; a colored man who went by the name of Philips, and he realized that the man was the kind to be tough but fair in his dealings with others. Chris nodded and sipped at the water more slowly, letting each mouthful swirl around his parched mouth before he swallowed. Eventually he drained the last drop, and he handed back up the mug, aware that by refusing to do so he would just suffer from no water at all.

"Here."

Chris looked back up in surprise when Philips held out another full cup of water. He reached for it quickly.

"Thanks."

"You just hang in there for another night and you'll be out of here tomorrow." Philips took back the cup for a second time. "Just remember. You back sass the Warden again, and you'll be right back down in a hole except, next time, we'll probably be burying you in it."

The small inset grate slammed shut and Philips walked away leaving Chris alone with the shadows creeping across the hole as the sun went down at the close of another day. He sat back down and huddled into the corner, hugging his arms around him as the temperature plummeted until the only warmth remaining to him was the thought of them being Vin's arms rather than his own. Eventually, the only light was that of the myriad pinpoints of starlight seen through the grate above his head. He gazed up, wondering what Vin was doing right now, and if he was missing Chris as badly as Chris missed him.

"My own stupid fault."

He should have gone to Vin and explained why he was doing as Buck asked. He knew Buck far better than Vin, and he knew the man needed time to cool down. Buck was not a mean-spirited man but he would never accept Chris's relationship with Vin while filled with blind fury. Once he came to realize that none of it besmirched the memory of Sarah and Adam then he would come round and accept Vin as Chris's chosen partner.

Problem was, Vin had ridden off; caught in his own fury, and Chris had decided it would be better to let Vin cool his heels too. After all, it was only going to be three days; the ride to Landen and back taking the best part of that time. However, he had found something of interest to keep him there a few days longer, though it wasn't Buck's brothel and fancy ladies that kept him occupied. A troupe of actors arrived the same day as he, and he had gone along to every performance, enthralled by the extracts from books and plays he'd read over the years. He watched as the performers enacted scenes from Shakespeare's comedies and tragedies, and he wished Vin had been there beside him with his poet's heart fed by the visual feast set before him.

Philips and another guard pulled him out the following morning and half-dragged, half-carried him to face the Warden. He was almost grateful for their arms gripping him so tightly for his legs were so weak they could barely support his weight. He saw them wrinkle their noses in disdain but he couldn't help the way he smelled. There had barely been enough water to drink so he sure didn't bother wasting any of it on washing. The Warden was as arrogant and hard-faced as before with his cold eyes showing his contempt for every man around him.

"We still got a problem, Inmate 78?"

Chris recalled Philips words and decided that it would be better if he conserved what little energy remained to fight another day. With luck, someone would come after him - eventually - though he did wonder if Vin had just kept on riding that day, without caring to look back.

"No, sir."

"Put him to work, Mr. Philips."

Philips and the guard dragged him off to the prisoners' barracks and watched as he stripped off his dirty clothes. Although Philips took no notice, Chris could feel the other guard's eyes appraising his naked flesh as he washed a little of the grime from his face and body before donning the coarse prison garb. He had heard enough stories of men being abused by others in prisons, and he knew he could not put it past the guards not to take advantage of the inmates should they find one that appealed. Trouble was, sex to many of these men was more about power than simple gratification, and all Chris had managed through his attempted escape was to get himself noticed as someone to exercise a little power over. He just hoped Vin and the others came for him before that happened.

****

Vin had spent the past seventeen days keeping his distance from Buck without stirring up too much notice from the others. If they started questioning why he and Buck were at odds with each other then he would be obliged to give them answers. He wasn't ashamed of his relationship with Chris. Far from it, but he knew the others wouldn't see it as something precious; something to be treasured and fought for if necessary. No doubt Josiah would start spitting sermons about Hell and Brimstone, and Nathan would have that look of disgust that he found for only the worst of maggots crawling across the face of the earth. Ezra would show his contempt; flicking Vin and Chris away like they were a piece of dirt clinging to that fancy jacket he took to wearing, and JD... well, JD would probably be shocked and confused, and unsure of which way to turn.

Vin had already seen Buck's reaction so he didn't need to imagine how Buck would handle the discovery of his best friend fucking another man. Still, the bit that hurt the worst was that Chris had ridden off without a word; taking Buck's advice to blow off some steam for a few days to get over his 'aberration'. Only, those few days had turned into weeks without a word, though something in his gut told him that Chris was in trouble. Truth was, he'd been having that feeling most of the time Chris had been away; dreaming that Chris was cold and lonely even though, in his dream, Chris was spooned up behind him and holding him so tightly that he could barely breath.

"Why are you clinging to me in my dreams, Chris? Figure it ought to be the other way around."

Vin's low voice barely carried across to other side of the small fire he had built to keep away the chilly night air. Strange, but he had felt the cold so much more acutely this past week and he wondered if they were in for an early winter this year, though none of the other signs seemed to read that way.

Vin threw a few more sticks of dry wood onto the fire; mesmerized for a moment by the way it crackled as the flames pounced upon their new victims.

His first impulse, after Buck saw them, was to keep on riding. Not because of Buck. Hell, if he ran away from every man who found something about him they didn't like then he'd be in darkest Peru by now. No. He would have been riding away from Chris; and from the life that could only be lived in the shadows because of the white man's laws against loving another man. Instead he had gone back the next day only to learn from Buck that Chris had taken his advice and had ridden off to Landen to avail himself of the women there.

Vin thought of Lydia, and the whore city of tents that had been Wicks Town. Going there had been for Buck's sake too; to throw Buck off the scent regarding his illicit doings with Vin. It had been far easier for Vin. Whenever he felt the others were growing suspicious of his lack of interest in the few scrawny ladies filling the saloon, he would ride off for a few days and come back looking all easy and rested. When they made innuendos about having some squaw up in the hills somewhere, he just gave them a knowing smile and let them believe what they would.

In truth, he spent that time alone, reacquainting himself with the wonders of nature and his own good right hand but, all the while, imagining it was another man's hand upon him. Chris's hand wrapped around his shaft; Chris's lips parting to take him into the wet heat of that luscious mouth; Chris's firm, naked body writhing beneath his as Vin buried himself deep inside that most precious flesh. Together they would reach for the stars, with his heart and mind grasping for that moment of perfection when he attained his dream of being one with Chris; those stars exploding inside his head and sparking through his entire being.

It never ended with the sex. There was that moment right after when the air would be filled with the sweet musk of their lovemaking, and his limbs would be all heavy; mind and body replete as he gathered Chris close. His lips would taste the salty beads of sweat trickling down Chris's temple, and then Chris would turn his face until their lips met in a gentle caress. Just like the kiss they were sharing when Buck came upon them; so sweet and soft. Even after seventeen days he could still taste the whiskey and the slightest hint of a cheroot, but beneath it all was the exquisite taste of Chris that always sent his passion soaring.

"Damn you, Larabee."

He was caught like a moth to a flame; flickering dangerously close to the burning fire that was Chris Larabee, unable to draw away and flutter back to the safety of the darkness. Time and again he singed his wings against that flame but Vin knew he'd rather be consumed in the fire of Chris's passion than linger alone in the shadows watching him from afar.

"Do you feel the same way about me, Cowboy?"

There were times when he felt certain of Chris's unspoken love for him, and other times, like now, when he wondered if he had just been a convenient body to assuage Chris's needs. And then he would remember the gentleness that followed sex; the way Chris would hold him tightly and nuzzle his throat. Sometimes they would allow themselves the whole night; awakening just before dawn to start the loving all over again. On a few occasions - too few in Vin's mind - they would ride off together for a few days and spend the time locked in passionate or loving embraces, only letting go when they had to.

Vin grinned as he recalled that last trip and how Chris had spent practically every moment of it buck naked. If he closed his eyes then he could see that lean, yet well-muscled body moving around their small camp. He loved the way the muscles rippled like living liquid as Chris completed any chores without shame or embarrassment; almost flaunting the perfection of his body to Vin and any other of God's creatures who happened by. Vin remembered the hawk that flew overhead, giving its shrill cry as it dived and caught a smaller bird. Chris had been crouched by the small fire, adding more kindling, his ivory skin glistening with a slight sheen of sweat from their earlier lovemaking. Vin lay close by, propped up on his elbows and taking his pleasure as his eyes traveled the curve of the firm ass to the heavy sac suspended below. When the hawk gave its triumphant cry, Chris had looked up; golden strands of his hair lifted by the slight breeze; his back arching in that special way it did when Vin took him and his ass muscles tensing while those agile fingers splayed over his knees to give him better balance.

He was breathtaking, and Vin's heart began to thump in his chest, his blood pooling into his groin as he recalled the way he had been drawn to that body. His arms had wrapped around the strong torso, drawing Chris up and away from the fire before urging him to his hands and knees. His hole had still been slick with grease and seed from their earlier coupling, and Vin sighed as he remembered pushing back inside that beautiful body; burying himself to the hilt in one swift thrust and reveling in the cry of pain and pleasure that spilled from Chris's lips. Chris had arched his back upwards, dropping his head down as Vin drew back and then thrust back, impaling Chris with his aching shaft...

If he closed his eyes Vin could recall the feel of those sharp hips bones against the palms of his hand as he held Chris tightly...

He released one, spitting into his palm and reaching beneath them to grasp Chris's hardened length. They had rocked together; crying out in pleasure, not needing to withhold the shouts of ecstasy for fear of being heard by others, and Vin knew Chris was there when Chris threw back his head, arching back into a deep bow and howling his triumph. Hot seed scalded Vin's fingers as he buried himself even deeper into his lover's body, shooting his own seed deep inside in short bursts of frenetic thrusting.

Vin moaned softly in remembrance, feeling light-headed as his blood flowed southwards. He rubbed his hand over the hardening mass at his groin, enjoying the small thrills of pleasure zinging through his veins. His eyes closed again; his senses focusing inwards as he reached for the first of the buttons that held his engorged flesh captive.

"Damn, but I miss you, Larabee. And I can't sleep another night without knowing you're safe."

His eyes flicked open, senses turning outwards once more, and Vin's hand went to his mare's leg as he recognized the sound of an approaching rider. He did not remove that hand even once he recognized the man as being Buck Wilmington. Buck slid from his horse and crouched down on the other side of the fire, stripping off his gloves and rubbing his hands briskly together. He looked up, the flickering light from the fire giving him a more devilish appearance than ever before, and he gave Vin a wary smile before starting some small talk.

"Cold night."

"I'm going after Chris come morning."

Buck tilted his head, staring hard into Vin's face but Vin had already made up his mind to follow up on his bad feelings concerning Chris. If he was wrong and Chris was holed up in the arms of some two-bit whore then at least he'd have his answer regarding their relationship. But if Chris was in trouble...

"That's what I came out to see you about. Seems Mary Travis has a soft spot for Chris... and she's getting a mite concerned over his whereabouts." Buck looked away, staring deep into the fire. "Have to say I ain't known him to stay away for so long without sending word, and he ain't the kind to drink himself into oblivion excepting on certain occasions." Buck looked back at Vin; his eyes hard as flint. "Probably blowing off steam in that brothel, just like I told him to, but it's been more than two weeks and Mary's got the others all lathered up."

"Just say what you gotta say, Buck."

"Mary sent a telegraph to Landen a few hours back. She's expecting a reply early tomorrow. If the news ain't good then we're riding, and we might just need ourselves a tracker." Buck helped himself to a piece of rabbit. "Hell, if the news is good I'm still planning on riding 'cause there must be some special ladies in Landen to keep Chris there for so long." Buck's triumphant grin was not lost on Vin but he knew Buck was only doing what he felt was right by Chris. "And if that's the case, then maybe you should ride along too, to get all this other nonsense out of your system."

Vin pursed his lips in annoyance. No number of painted whores was going to get Chris out of Vin's blood. The man was too deeply embedded in his heart, mind and soul for that to happen. Still, it made no sense to rile Buck further so he let the comment pass unchallenged - for now - but he could feel the fury building; stealing through him with ice-cold fingers. Nevertheless, he knew he'd not be able to let another remark slip by without a word.

"If I ride with you then I need to know you'll follow where I lead, else I'm heading out alone."

"I'll follow you, Vin. Ain't got no problem with your tracking and leadership... just with your choice of bed partners."

"Don't know about Chris, but my choice ain't gonna change just 'cause you want it so, Buck."

Buck sighed deeply and stared hard at the flickering flames.

"Reckon I know that. I ain't as narrow-minded as most folks, probably 'cause I was raised in a brothel. I know there are some men who just can't take to the ladies no matter how hard they try." He looked back across the fire at Vin. "And I can understand what you'd see in a man like Chris..." Buck grimaced then added, begrudgingly, "...and I can understand what he sees in you even if the law don't like it... and even if I don't like it neither. Just so's we understand each other."

"Ain't my problem if you like it or not. And it ain't any of your business either. Just so's _we_ understand each other, Buck."

Buck nodded his head, his expression tight but accepting of the facts as they stood. Although Buck still wasn't happy with the idea of Vin and Chris bedding each other, Vin realized that Buck had mellowed since their last terse conversation; when he learned that Chris had taken Buck's suggestion and ridden to Landen. It made him wonder if this was why Chris had done as Buck asked. Chris and Buck went back a long way so he must have known that all Buck needed was a few days left alone to calm down, and to realize that they were all still the same men they had been before he caught them kissing.

"I'll be dragging Ezra out of that fine feather bed of his come sun up."

"I'll be there."

Vin watched as Buck climbed onto his horse and rode away, leaving him alone with just the small fire to combat the darkness, and his dreams of Chris to assuage the loneliness. He lay down and gazed up into the night sky, seeing the millions of tiny pinpoints of starlight shining so brilliantly in the clear sky. He wondered if Chris was out there somewhere, and if he had been staring up into this same sky.

"Where are you, Cowboy?"

****

His run in with the Lawless brothers had left him with a three inch gash along his left side, but he had managed to take the knife off his assailant and hide it up his sleeve when the guards finally reacted. He didn't envy Gage Lawless's brother spending two days in the hole for fighting, and he knew he'd just worsened his own situation here in the prison.

The advantage to getting knifed was that he had spent that first night in the infirmary rather than in the barracks where the remaining Lawless brothers would be waiting to offer more retribution for the sins of his past. Simmons had already warned him that he had made powerful enemies on both sides of the fence, just before the Doctor sent him to a world of pain as he sutured the gaping slash in Chris's side without benefit of any mind or body numbing techniques. Chris focused on the bottle of whiskey that the Doctor had placed just out of arm's reach. Only good sense and the bracelet securing him to the metal bedstead had kept him reasonably still while the needle spread fire through his body with every stitch. He had managed to bite down on the desire to scream in pain right up to the end; and then Simmons had spat out some of that whiskey onto an old rag and pressed it hard against the sutures.

Chris fancied that his scream must have been heard from one end of the prison to the other, though Simmons said he'd heard worse in his time, when he'd been a sawbones in the Civil war. He'd had to amputate many a limb during those dark years but, fortunately for Chris, Simmons was forced away to check on Inmate 46 before he got to the really gory details of how that particular operation was accomplished without any form of pain deadening.

Chris stood upright, stretching the abused muscles of his back and shoulders, and he stared into the darkening sky. There were clouds forming and years of experience told him that rain was on the way. It would probably arrive tomorrow adding more misery to an already miserable existence.

The stitches pulled every time he moved but Simmons had done a good job at holding him together, and the knife had come in handy later to ensure he got a meal that hadn't been hawked into first. Still, he felt weak from those eight days in the hole and from the loss of blood from his wound, but there would be no reprieve for him. He was expected to work as hard as the next man; breaking stones and sifting pebbles from the earth he dug up.

His one regret was that he hadn't kept his mouth shut when Sheriff Quince and the Warden gave him the chance to send out a message. Instead he had allowed his misery and anger to guide his words, and so he lost his chance of letting Vin and the others know where he was. Now he would have to wait in the hope they came looking for him, otherwise it was going to be a long and hard five years labor in this hell hole.

The day wore on and Chris made sure he stayed well away from where the Lawless brothers were working, not wanting to risk another confrontation with them while he was still so weak. He would be spending his first night in the barracks, probably chained to the bed as this prison did not look like it had blocks of cells. It reminded him of the prisoner-of-war camp he had seen during the war, where the Confederates were all thrown in together without even a bed to lay down on at night; just mildewed blankets tossed onto the damp ground. Chris figured he'd be relatively safe as long as everyone else was chained up too.

The Warden's voice broke through his concerns for the coming night, and Chris watched as Inmate 46 was dragged out. He didn't need to have Simmons tell him how sick the man was as Chris had seen it for himself. Last night, Inmate 46 had ended up lying in his own filth because he barely had the strength to cry out his needs. Chris had alerted Simmons when the stench of excrement and vomit filled the room and, though he offered to help, Simmons had seen to Inmate 46 by himself, showing a surprising amount of compassion for his helpless patient.

"I will not allow you men to slack off from work. Inmate 46, here has been hiding in the infirmary taking it easy. We'll have no more of that."

As Chris watched, a spade was thrust into the sick man's hands. He frowned as the already sweat-sheened face turned gray and the man collapsed to the ground with a groan of pain. The Warden hit the curled up body in annoyance but looked up in fury as someone from behind Chris yelled out.

"Leave him alone!"

"Who said that? Stick! Get up, you lazy dog! I said get up!"

Chris couldn't bear to stand by and do nothing. He didn't know Inmate 46. The man was nothing to him except another prisoner caught up in this hell, but no one deserved to be beaten like a dog, and especially not a sick man. His feet were moving, the chains clinking as he shuffled towards the Warden and the small knot of guards pressed around the downed, sick man. The stick was raised once more with all of the Warden's attention focused on the body he was about to beat to a bloody pulp. Chris grabbed the Warden's wrist.

"Get off him!"

For a moment the Warden was stunned; shocked that one of the prisoners had managed to get close enough to touch him. Shock turned to fury; spittle landing on Chris's face as the Warden snarled at him.

"You know what the penalty is for striking a prison official? Step aside, Inmate 78."

When Chris stood his ground, standing between the Warden and the downed man, he saw the fury reach breaking point in the Warden's cruel eyes. The stick came down hard, catching him on the juncture of neck and shoulder and knocking him to the ground. He barely felt his head impact with one of the many sharp rocks strewn across the ground. He writhed in agony, unable to catch his breath for a moment, and then he heard his own low groan of pain as he finally released a breath. With tears stinging his eyes, he clambered back to his feet, falling back once as he tangled in the chains binding his ankles, only to feel an explosion of pain at the back of his knees.

"Just step aside, Inmate 78."

Chris could hear an edge of pleading in Philips' voice but he couldn't back down, knowing that every moment spent hurting him was one less blow the Warden spent on Inmate 46.

"You're crazy, boy. I can do this all day, Inmate 78."

Chris groaned, desperately struggling to regain his feet. He almost made it but the chains holding his ankles close together gave him no leeway for balance, and he fell down hard as the Warden struck him on the back.

"Stay down, man."

How he wanted to take Philips advice... to just lie down and wait for the excruciating pain to ebb away. He was so tired, so weak, and his body was burning with pain radiating to every aching and abused muscle. His side was screaming its own pain and he knew he had torn some of those stitches. His head was aching from the impact of the stick on one side and from the rock on the other side. He could feel warm blood trickling down his face; mingling with the sweat that poured from him as his whole body throbbed in agony.

"You ain't going to make it, boy."

But he had to. Some how, he had to get back on his feet. A sound reached him; the clang of metal on stone, and then came a voice of encouragement that should have been conveying hatred and ridicule.

"Come on, get up."

If even the Lawless Brothers were behind him then he had to get up--even if it only meant being knocked back down again. Using the last of his strength, he gained his feet and stood before the Warden, swaying precariously. The clanging stopped.

"Just leave him alone. Sir."

The Warden stared hard and Chris could see that he was caught between bringing Chris back down, with the danger of causing a riot, or taking this incident somewhere private.

"Take Inmate 46 back to the infirmary... Mr. Philips!" A vicious smile crossed the fat face; the small eyes narrowing. "Go on get yourself fixed up, as well, 78. I got plans for you."

"Come on, 78. Let's move it, here."

As he was led away he could hear the Warden ordering everyone back to work, but Chris knew the incident wasn't over. He had seen the silent fury in those cruel eyes and he knew those plans would bring pleasure only to one man, and that was the Warden.

****

Vin let his thoughts roam free as they rode along the weather beaten track linking the small towns. The livery master in Landen had recalled Chris Larabee, but that was not surprising to Vin. Chris was the kind of man people tended to remember. The men saw the softly-spoken, often dark clad stranger who had an air of danger about him. And the women? Well, in Vin's eyes they were like Mary Travis, seeing all those same things as the men but instead of being fearful, they would romanticize about this tall, lean, handsome stranger. They would wonder where he came from, and where he was going. Vin could understand both reactions for there was something special about Chris. Buck had that same quality, though the effect was not so obvious because of that easy-going grin that charmed instead of awed.

Animal magnetism, Buck called it.

Vin had seen the same thing in nature; the dominant male standing out among the rest of the herd. He looked around at the men traveling with him. It was unusual to have so many dominant males riding together but, some how, they seemed to fit together, each bringing a unique quality to the group that strengthened them as a whole.

He often wondered if it was a chance meeting that brought them all to the same small town at the same time; or if it was destiny. Certainly he felt that destiny was at play on that first day he laid eyes on Chris Larabee. He could still feel the heat of that first look; the way those green eyes had met his and pierced all the way to his soul. No matter what happened between them, and even if he should find Chris holed up with some whore, he would never have regrets for the time they shared both in and out of each other's arms.

There were four towns between their own and Landen, and they spent most of the first day scouting around the two closest ones without any success. It was Vin who decided they should press on to the next town, knowing they would get there by late afternoon. None of the six had ever spent any time in Jericho before so they didn't know what to expect but, as long as it had a saloon, then there was a slight possibility Chris might have stopped there on his way through. Whatever the case, they would stay there overnight and let the horses rest up.

As they rode into town they saw the deputy lounging outside the sheriff's office. It seemed a pretty good place to start asking questions. Vin took stock of the indolent man whose attitude was far too self-assured for someone facing down six total strangers with guns on their hips.

"Chris... Chris Larabee. He wouldn't be that egg-sucking, horse-thieving gutter trash from up Fort Laramie way, now, would he?"

Sure enough, the man started baiting them, but Vin was surprised when the normally happy-go-lucky Buck took the bait so strongly, and he held out his arm to stop Buck drawing on the little weasel still lounging in front of them with a knowing smile on his face.

"Easy, Buck." Vin dredged up a pleasant smile. "No, sir. Wrong man."

They rode on into the small town and dismounted outside a tatty building that Ezra proclaimed, derisively, to be the Lullaby Inn Boarding House. Vin watched as all but Josiah took a seat at a nearby table while Vin hitched himself up at the bar. Josiah leaned on the bar and made inquiries about Chris but the woman didn't recall either the name or the description Vin gave, and then she excused herself to refill glasses.

Light hair, dressed in black.

The fanciful side of him - the side that he kept well hidden - could have found far better words to describe Chris. Hair the color of the sun rising on a golden, spring morning; eyes like the soft moss clinging to small rocks in a babbling brook; a lean, strong body, with dark clothing clinging possessively to every curve of the perfectly sculptured figure. He saw again, the naked form of his lover, the firm ass cheeks and those long legs that would wrap tightly around Vin's waist when Vin took him face to face. He could see the soft lips parted as Chris gasped his pleasure, could feel the heat of the tight channel clamped around him as he thrust inside, eager to fill this body with all he had to give.

Had he lost all of that?

Vin let his gaze fall on Buck, watching as the large man tried to relax but there was a twitch in his muscles that told Vin there was a lot more anger still riding beneath that normally gregarious exterior. However, he got the impression that the fury was no longer aimed at him or Chris.

Vin could not fail to notice the covert glances Buck had spared him throughout this day, and how the man had been eyeing him with some emotion other than fury. The incident with the deputy gave him a clue that Buck was like a mama bear protecting a cub and that was why he had been so angry with Vin. He didn't want to see Chris hurt, either by Vin or by anyone who might object to what Chris and he were doing together.

Buck noticed Vin watching him and he stood up, sauntering to the bar and leaning back against it beside Vin. He kept his voice low.

"Been thinking... about you being with Chris."

"Already told you. Ain't none of your business, Buck."

"I know. I know it ain't my business but I've been thinking and damned if he ain't a happier man since we all met up. Maybe that had nothing to do with any of us; maybe it was just good timing that he'd gotten over the worst of his loss when he came to that town. Or maybe some of that pain eased having some good friends standing by his side... especially when we came across Cletus Fowler."

"What you trying to say, Buck?"

"Just trying to say that... that maybe I'm being too hard on you both. It ain't like I don't know about such going's on between men. And I ain't never been bothered about it before, and was willing to turn a blind eye to the goings on of others like yourself. Though I prefer the ladies myself."

Vin snorted and took a small sip of his whiskey. He turned the words over in his mind for a moment.

"Hell, I don't know, Vin. Said before, I can understand what he sees in you, but I won't even pretend to understand why he'd prefer you to some woman; him being married once and all. No. Despite what I think, you and him ain't my call and, despite what you may be thinking, I got a soft spot for both of you. Don't wanna see either of you hurt should someone bring it to the attention of the Judge."

Vin nodded, knowing there wasn't anything he could say to that, although he did feel a little extra warmth knowing that his feud with Buck was at an end.

"Problem is, Vin. I've been thinking so hard about keeping you apart that I refused to accept Chris might be in trouble. If he's hurt... or dead... when I could have been there to help him... I ain't sure I'll ever be able to forgive myself."

Buck walked back to join the others, giving Vin no chance to reply but the words spun around Vin's head. What if Chris was hurt? What if he was dead? What if the cold and lonely figure clinging to him in his dreams was his lover's ghost trying to hold onto him? Vin drained the whiskey and asked the woman, Jessie, to set up another for him. He licked his lips, tasting the rough whiskey and remembering that last gentle kiss; the hint of a cheroot and whiskey, and the soft lips so pliant beneath his as his senses were filled with the intoxicating presence of that man.

Vin turned back, a fresh whiskey in his hand, and he let the voices of his friends drown out the waves of memory that crashed down upon him. He concentrated hard on JD's words and shook his head in dismay when he heard JD's poor telling of a feeble joke about a dog, unsurprised when no one else found the joke funny but grateful for the distraction nonetheless.

Another distraction came in through the saloon doors in the form of the deputy and his sheriff.

"You know, I'm not sure I like all these new guns rolling through my town without so much as an introduction."

Vin wasn't too pleased to hear the woman give away his name to the sheriff but the man showed no sign of recognizing it. Nevertheless, it did surprise him how much information she gave; it coming across more as a warning than as a pleasantry, setting Vin's instincts jangling. He had felt these same jangles in his years of bounty hunting and his first instinct was to go and check the jail house to make sure Chris wasn't being held there.

"I don't recall any Chris Larabee but I'll be sure to keep my eye out for him. Now, you fellas plan on staying in Jericho I'm afraid I'm going to have to collect those guns."

Buck snickered at the idea of giving up his gun but Vin knew that only happened when the gunfighter drew out a different kind of loaded weapon from his pants--and, judging from the recent talks, that was only for the ladies. Vin had hoped they might be able to stay in the town overnight and start looking for Chris afresh tomorrow. However, there was no chance of any of them handing over their guns so it was time to move on, and as the likelihood of reaching the next town before dark was very slim, he knew they'd be camping out tonight.

"We'll be moving on soon as we get some supplies, Sheriff."

Vin and Josiah waited outside while Ezra, JD, Nathan and Buck wandered into the general store to get their supplies but they came running when they heard Buck's voice raised in renewed fury. Vin entered, eyes darting around as he took in the scene of a cowering owner draped over his own serving bench with Buck snarling into his face.

"Buck?"

Buck stood up, dragging the man with him. He turned and tossed a gun to Vin, which he deftly caught. Vin looked down at the weapon and saw the nick in the stag grip; his heart skipping a beat. It was Chris's gun, and he knew Chris would never let anyone take it off him except by force. He looked up and straight into the eyes of the frightened store owner, his fingers itching to drag his knife from its sheath and brandish it beneath this man's eyes until he told him everything. If the fear of God had not already been put into the man by Buck then the look on Vin's face must have been the clincher for, suddenly, the man was tripping over himself to explain how he had come by Chris's gun. Every word sent Vin's anger climbing right alongside Buck's as some of the pieces started to fit together. Vin spun span away and stalked from the store, the gun still in his hand; his first call would be made on the owner of the Lullaby Inn.

He found the woman hanging up her laundry behind the boarding house and he approached stealthily, like a hungry predator, his eyes focused on the woman like she was about to become his next meal.

"Mr. Tanner? What...? What do you want?"

He tried to keep his tone light and matter of fact though it was taking every ounce of control not to press the tip of his blade against her scraggy throat.

"Me and the boys just want to ask you a few more questions about our friend."

Despite his assertions later, Vin knew most of the anger had been no ruse on Buck's part. He could feel the fear and fury radiating from the large frame in waves. What surprised Vin more was that he could sense those same waves of anger - to varying degrees - coming from all of the men in his company. Even Josiah, with his soft reassuring words, had sounded a little colder than Vin had ever heard him before.

Vin followed on behind Josiah and Buck and then he quickened his pace, stalking past them and heading over towards the Sheriff's office. It was obvious to him now that the woman had known the name Chris Larabee, and that she had been giving a warning to the sheriff. Buck was right behind him as he pushed inside, yelling Chris's name but getting no answer. He checked each of the three cells but the whole place was empty with no sign of Chris having ever been there.

He stormed out and saw JD approaching.

"Deputy's down at the saloon."

"Well, let's go pay him a visit then."

He started for the saloon, uncaring whether anyone else was following and yet aware that they were right behind him, only stopping when he heard the disdain in Ezra's raised voice.

"You'll are worse than General Sherman on a Georgia plantation."

Vin stopped and turned, his anger refusing to abate. He wanted to tear apart this town--with his bare hands if necessary--such was his determination to find Chris or those responsible for hurting or killing him.

"Rude? No. Rude would be a definite improvement. I'm saying you scare people. And perhaps terrorizing them won't buy you any answers this time."

Ezra's words finally reached him; penetrating the fog of anger filling his head as he realized he was letting his emotions get the better of him. Perhaps Ezra was right. Perhaps this was one time when they'd get more answers through subterfuge than through threats.

****

While Simmons re-sewed the stitches and saw to the cut on his head, Chris gritted his teeth and swallowed the fiery whiskey.

"Some inmates thought he was a Texas Ranger coming in here searching for the missing. Some thought he was an Indian tracker. Whatever he was, he was strong and proud and stubborn. Kind of like you."

Tracker. He swallowed another mouthful as every thought went to Vin; his tracker, a man who had lived the way of the Indian and, maybe because of that, who could no longer understand why it was so wrong for them to be together in other men's eyes. Hell. It wasn't wrong but Chris didn't make the laws, and he had no way of changing them either though this recent event in his life had only gone to prove that there was little justice to be had on the frontier anyway. No matter what Buck's feelings were in all this, Chris didn't want to give up Vin. He couldn't imagine never being able to hold that strong body in his arms again; to not be able to look soul deep into those sky blue eyes and see himself lovingly reflected there. His body ached to be filled by Vin; to feel that lithe body thrusting up against him, within him... and equally, he wanted to have Vin beneath him, moaning and trembling in pleasure as Chris took him and made Vin part of himself.

He recalled their last trip away together, and the hawk that cried overhead. Vin was that hawk; proud and beautiful, strong and sleek with sharp eyes and claws; a silent predator who crowed only in triumph and allowing none to truly tame him. Even Vin's hair was the same tawny color, and feather-soft to the touch. Chris frowned. Was it also true that hawks mated for life?

"Heard Gage Lawless cheering you on."

"Yeah. Surprised me, considering..."

"Considering what?"

"Considering I killed his cousin a few years back."

"Hmm. Explains why he weren't none too pleased to meet you."

"Oh, I reckon he was pleased to meet me... though not for any good reason."

Chris fell silent, thinking back to those dark days just after Sarah and Adam were killed when he had courted death at any opportunity, and sent others to their early graves. He barely remembered Dodge City. It was just another town he came across as he searched for the men who destroyed his life. He had to think real hard to remember Jackie Pinder but then the image came to him. Yes. Pinder had been little more than a boy looking to build himself a reputation by facing Chris, and Chris knew he could easily have walked away from that encounter without a single shot fired. Instead he had let the boy draw and then he had plugged him straight through the heart as if, by doing so, he could kill the pain that rode within himself.

Fast and accurate.

A gunfighter had to be fast and accurate but Jackie Pinder had been neither, so Chris could have winged him, or shot the gun from his hand, even though Pinder had no intention of being merciful to him.

At some time during those last few months before meeting Vin for the first time, he had stopped looking for death and had started to pick his fights with more care. He had reached his prime and he knew that there were young guns - like JD - who would prove themselves faster and more accurate than he as time rolled by, and as his skill with a gun deteriorated with age. Unfortunately, that renewed desire to live had come too late for the likes of Jackie Pinder.

When the guard came back for him, Chris expected to be taken to the Warden but, instead, he was sent back to work after the rest break. Chris welcomed the respect he saw in Philips' dark eyes as the head guard handed him a shovel, knowing that although it offered him no privileges, it meant he would have less worries about the other guards. They respected Philips and wouldn't want to cross him. Unfortunately, his good fortune did not last long as he dragged himself along the path to his designated work spot. The Lawless brothers stepped out in front of him and, with just a slight hesitation, Chris carried on walking towards them.

"How's Inmate 46 doing?"

Chris froze for a moment, confused by the lack of hardness in Gage Lawless's voice. He'd been expecting a continuation of their feud.

"Doc said he's better." Chris eyes the man in front of him. Perhaps it was time to mend some more fences. "You were right. I should have winged your cousin. I was a different man then."

Gage nodded; the last remnants of hostility fading from his eyes. "We all were."

There was nothing much more to say so Chris carried on past but he felt as if another piece of darkness had been lifted from him. All he had to do now was survive whatever the Warden had planned for him, and then figure out a way to get back to Vin.

He looked across as the gates opened and Sheriff Quince rode away fast; heading back to the nearby town for the second time that day. Something was going on that had the sheriff all lathered up but Chris refused to raise his hopes that it might have something to do with him.

Those kind of hopes could get a man killed, and Chris didn't want to die when he had so much to live for.

The rain came; a fine drizzle that seeped through the thin prison uniform within minutes, chilling his already tired and weakened body, and Chris was grateful that the end of the day was approaching. He breathed a sigh of relief when the bell tolled and he drudged back in line with the others, feeling cold and miserable. The wet chains were chafing even worse at his ankles even though he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the wet material of his prison pants between the rough metal and his damp skin.

"Inmate 78... get over here."

Chris swore silently beneath his breath. He'd been wondering when the Warden would make good on his words about having plans for him and he had a strong feeling that he was about to discover what those plans might be.

"You have a talent for making trouble. I don't like that."

"I'll work on it, sir."

Chris looked down, not wanting to start any more trouble for he knew his body couldn't handle it.

"You just spit on my shoes, Inmate 78."

Chris looked up. So that was the way it was going to be. He'd spent the last few hours wondering how the Warden planned on bringing him down, and had even felt a moment of horror as he imagined the man making use of his position to rape him, or watch him being taken by others.

"Two days in the hole or clean my boots, boy."

"Sir, you put him in the hole again he's going to die."

"Back away, Mr. Philips."

Chris knew that killing him was the Warden's intent for they all knew he was never going to drop to his knees and start cleaning the man's boots. Chris had humiliated him earlier over Inmate 46 and this was his revenge; to rid himself of a man who had proved he was worth nothing by offering no names of folks willing to raise five hundred dollars for his release - and who had proved that he would bring only trouble if they let him live.

"You clean them yourself, you fat cow."

Another guard struck him hard on the back of the knees and Chris cried out, unable to take any more pain that day.

"Eight days in the hole. Take him down, Mr. Philips."

"I will not, sir."

Another guard began to haul Chris away towards the hole, and any remaining hope was dashed as he heard the Warden telling Philips to get his belongings and be out of there before sunrise. Ahead of him loomed the darkness of the hole and he heard the metal grate creak on rusty hinges as it was raised. The guard dragged him to the edge and kicked him hard... and then he was falling, the breath knocked from his body as he hit the bottom of the deep hole.

Chris curled himself into a ball; his back burning from this most recent beating and with the other bruises and injuries protesting just as loudly. His whole body seemed to be one raw wound as he tried to suck in a breath of the dank, excrement filled air. After a while he managed to roll onto his back and he parted his lips to let some of the misty rain drizzle into his open mouth. Tears burning in his eyes were released; seeping from beneath his lashes to mingle with the rain that drenched his face. He let himself wallow in self-pity for a time; no longer afraid to be seen as weak, but then he gathered what little strength remained to him and drew himself up.

He was back where he started; huddled into the corner of the dank hole, staring up through the grate at the night sky but, this time, there were no stars to provide their feeble light. The temperature had dropped and he knew that, without dry clothing, he would fall sick from fever, and in his weakened condition he stood even less chance of surviving than Inmate 46.

"I'm sorry, Vin."

****

Vin shook his head, amazed at how simple an operation could be when you had all the right elements in place; a crooked sheriff, a greedy, sadistic prison warden and someone to dispose of all the evidence. They had quite a racket going and, despite his protestations to the contrary, that store keeper had been well aware that the fine haberdashery and other goods were ill-gotten gains. Shame that none were bright enough to see that disposing of those goods posed the weak link in their chain. If they'd had sense then they would have distributed those goods through neighboring towns; thinning out the trail, but they had all been a little too greedy.

The deputy fell backwards and lay still on the floor having drunk himself into oblivion but Vin didn't care. Now he knew everything and he was filled, once more, with renewed hope of finding Chris alive whereas all he could see earlier was a black pit of despair. After finding the gun he thought he would be tracking Chris to some lonely grave; a victim of the worst kind of robbers who killed their victims and then looted the bodies before disposing of the human remains.

All they had to do now was ride on out to that prison and free Chris but, for that, they needed a plan. As if on cue, the Sheriff entered with five of his men. He held out a bounty poster which Vin ignored.

"The deputy here was telling us a very interesting story... about the racket you and your ma got going."

"Well, he's a stone-cold liar. I don't want any trouble from the rest. I understand how you were conned by this here criminal and none of you knew he was wanted for murder in the state of Texas."

"We knew all about it."

Vin smiled as Nathan's words took the wind out of Sheriff Quince's sails leaving the man adrift, and he silently thanked Chris for persuading him to reveal his wanted status to the others. It probably wouldn't have made any difference in the long run if they hadn't known in advance, but it meant that everyone was focused on the here and now rather than wondering about Vin's past. Vin stood up, his eyes never leaving those of a man he would hold personally responsible should they never recover Chris alive. He caught movement nearby as Nathan pulled back his coat to free his gun holster from any hindrance should he need to draw.

"On the count of three. One."

Two of Quince's men fled from the saloon and Vin watched as the Sheriff's eyes darted towards the swinging doors.

"Two."

Ezra, JD and Josiah stood up, flinging back anything that might get in the way of a quick draw while Buck, who was already standing, freed up his own holster; his gun hand twitching as he loosened his fingers ready for the draw. The last three men in the Sheriff's party ran for the exit, unwilling to face six men who seemed intent on a showdown.

"Wait just... everybody wait a minute. This doesn't have to end in violence."

"Three."

Quince let his trigger finger slip aside, the gun barrel spinning to face down as he faced the business end of six barrels. He carefully placed the gun on the table. Vin knew he ought to feel triumph at having bested this nasty piece of work but inside he felt dead, knowing that he would only live again when he saw Chris standing before him alive and well. He didn't bother to waste any more time and stepped forward to grab Quince by the arm, quickly dragging him out into the darkened street.

"Let's have a look at this little prison of yours."

The appearance of Jessie Quince was but a minor irritation and his first impulse was to just shoot the woman and be damned. Josiah must have realized how raw Vin's emotions were for he stepped in quickly, placing himself between Vin and the person obstructing his path. Behind him, Vin could feel Buck chomping at the bit and knew the ladies man would just as soon put a bullet in her as well despite his love of the fairer sex. Vin spoke up, breaking the stalemate and giving her the chance to walk away.

"We just want our friend back."

"You might as well leave. He's already dead."

"Is that so?"

Even though night had fallen and the drizzle blotted out the street fires, Vin could see the fear that crept into the woman's eyes as she realized her mistake. If Chris was dead then Vin would make sure that every person responsible was taken down in the only justice he truly recognized; frontier justice. Josiah took the gun from her, giving her a temporary reprieve from his vengeance as he pushed Quince along towards the horses once more. Moments later they were in the saddle and riding towards the prison.

In the confusion that followed their entry into the prison, Sheriff Quince managed to slip away. Vin dove for some cover behind a pair of barrels and he was joined, quickly, by Ezra. He heard Buck shouting for covering fire and, although the order was sent to JD, Vin obeyed it too, laying down a blanket of fire with his mare's leg that kept the guards pinned down while Buck raced to join him. The guards retreated inside one of the wooden buildings, using it for cover as they fired at what Quince had called the Larabee Gang.

Vin felt his frustration rising. They had no idea where Chris might be in this prison, but now that Quince was free, Vin feared that the crooked Sheriff would use Chris as a hostage against them. Buck nudged him hard in the chest with an elbow.

"We'll keep them pinned down. You go get Chris."

A fresh sensation of warmth filled him as he realized that, by sending him after Chris when he would, no doubt, have preferred to be the one looking for his friend, Buck was proving he still trusted and respected Vin. Vin nodded and yelled to Nathan; the two of them covering each other as they raced across the open space to where Vin had last seen the Sheriff. Vin took the front of the shack while Nathan slipped around the back. It was locked so Vin threw himself against the door, breaking through. He ducked as soon as he realized the Sheriff was in there, and that he had obtained a gun. Vin yelled out to Nathan as the Sheriff used another man as a shield and he leapt forward to throw aside the cupboard Quince had toppled across his escape route.

Outside, Vin found Nathan on the ground but Nathan insisted the gunshot would wasn't serious and sent Vin on his way. A series of gunshots from up ahead that had nothing to do with the fighting going on behind him alerted Vin to new danger. He raced over, hearing shouts of fury as Quince fired into a darkened hole in the ground.

"All right... die! You miserable bastard! You die now! You..."

Vin froze as he saw a familiar shape come out of the shadows just as Quince's gun clicked on empty. Chris's soft voice carried across the twenty feet separating them as if he was standing right beside Vin and whispering seductively into his ear.

"Looking for me?"

"You... you... god..."

The Sheriff seemed to hang over Chris, leaning against him like some ardent lover before he slipped to his knees in adoration--and then Vin saw the glint of a knife sticking out from the man's gut. Chris looked up and saw Vin standing there. With slow shuffling movements, he moved towards him but he stopped beside the body of a large man, and Vin could hear the heavy wheezing breath as the man struggled to speak.

"Who... are you?"

"Inmate 78."

Chris carried on walking, leaving the dying man behind without a second glance. Chris's eyes were large and luminous as the moon broke through a crack in the thick layer of cloud and sent a beam of light down upon him. Vin choked back a sob as he saw the gaunt and bruised face with matted hair plastered to his skull. Chris took another couple of shuffling steps towards him; his ankles still bound by shackles, and the grimy prison garb hanging loosely from his too thin frame.

In a few steps Vin closed the gap between them and pulled Chris into his arms. He felt the thin arms wrap around him, sensing little strength in them. Knowing Chris would offer objections - but not caring - Vin lifted his lover into his arms and carried him to the nearest building. His fear rose another notch when those protestations didn't come, and Chris clung to him like a drowning man to a rock. He kicked aside the door and discovered he was in the Warden's accommodation. Sleeping in a comfortable corner of the room was a prisoner and though the man looked up in fear, he made no attempt to interfere. Vin shoved open another door and took a few steps inside. He laid Chris down on the comfortable bed and then dropped to his knees beside him.

"Damn it, Larabee. Can't you leave my side for just a few days without getting yourself in trouble." Vin picked up one thin wrist and kissed the open palm. "How the hell did you get into such a mess, Cowboy?"

Chris drew his hand away and the cupped Vin's chin; his thumb rubbing across Vin's lips.

"You know me and my principles. Couldn't stand by and watch them shoot an innocent man in the back."

"Nathan got shot... but I'll go get him anyway."

"Vin? There's a Doc here. Goes by the name of Simmons. He's a good man."

Vin nodded and though he hated to leave him, he knew he had to get someone for Chris even though Chris had probably been thinking about Nathan when he mentioned Simmons. When he walked back into the outer room, Vin spotted the prisoner still huddled in the corner.

"You. You know where this Doc Simmons is?" The man nodded. "Then go bring him here."

The man scampered off and Vin moved to the porch, his eyes scanning the darkness until he saw the familiar shape of Buck Wilmington approaching. This time he didn't need to reach for his mare's leg and, once he was certain Buck had seen him, he moved back to Chris's side and froze in horror. The ripple of fear past quickly when he realized that the man on the bed was merely sleeping, though the bloodless pallor of his face had given a momentary illusion of death. Vin sat down beside Chris, letting his fingers reach out to touch the grimy strands of damp hair that had already dirtied the pillow. He reached down and drew the thick blanket over Chris, deciding to wait until the doctor arrived before he tried anything. His fingers returned to the pale, unshaven face, trailing across sharply defined cheekbones and dipping into the hollows beneath that ought not to be there. He glanced over his shoulder as Buck stopped on the threshold.

"Goddammit. What did they do to him?"

"Reckon he's been beaten and starved. How's Nathan?"

"He's fine. Just a nick but it must hurt like the devil." Buck came all the way into the room but Vin refused to turn away from the sleeping face on the bed or refrain from showing his affection for Chris. "Met a man on my way in. Said ya'd sent him for some doctor."

"Chris told me to send for Simmons. Said he's a good man."

"He said that about you too... and he was right then, so I guess he's gonna be right about this Simmons."

An older man who was almost as unkempt and thin as Chris came through the door and Vin knew instantly that this was the man Chris had put his trust in--for Nathan and himself. The Doctor ousted Vin from the bedside and reached out, placing his fingers against Chris's throat.

"Hmm. Was weak before this. Spent eight days in the hole soon as he got here, for trying to escape. Then the damn fool stood up to the Warden to protect another inmate, and got himself beat for his troubles." The Doctor shook his head as he pulled back the covers and the grimy clothing, revealing the angry stitches in Chris's side. "Damn fool." Simmons looked up at the two men hovering nearby. "But a good man. A damn good man. Now, if only I had my bag then I'd be able to fix him up a whole lot better."

"You Doctor Harrison J. Simmons?"

They all turned to see Nathan propped up against the door frame.

"That I am... now why don't you go take a seat, young fella, and I'll see to that wound--"

Nathan held a dark object forward and Simmons' eyes widened in shock and horror.

"You found my bag? Here in the prison?"

"No. Found it in a store in Jericho. Figured it'd been stolen along with all them other fancy pieces - and Chris's gun - and I figured we might be needing here tonight so I took it."

The horror in the Doctor's face faded as he realized that the bag had not been here all the time and deliberately kept away from him for some sadistic reason. Nevertheless, the Warden had to have known it was in that store and that Simmons could have put the contents to good use here at the prison.

"They took it off me more than six months ago when I was passing through Jericho. Accused me of robbing some bank in Landen and set a bail for five hundred dollars." Simmons turned back to Chris and started undoing the buttons on the rough prison clothing. "Needs to get these wet clothes off or he'll catch a chill." Vin stepped forward to assist, glancing only once at Buck before he raised Chris enough for the Doctor to strip the shirt off completely. "Thanks, son. Didn't have that kind of money and I didn't have any family that could raise it so I figured I was going to die here."

Vin clenched his jaw in silent fury as he saw the livid blue and purple bruises marring the ivory flesh. Vin could see the ragged edges of the gash in Chris's side that looked as if it had been torn open more than once since first being stitched up.

"Gonna have to re-stitch that wound." The Doctor delved inside his bag but his hand came out empty and he uttered a small curse.

"I got some laudanum in my saddlebags, if that's what your needing."

"Nathan's our healer."

The Doctor nodded at Vin's explanation.

"Then someone go fetch it. He damned near screamed the place down first time I sewed him up. Don't believe he's got the strength to do so again but he could do without the pain nonetheless."

****

Chris awoke with the first light of the dawn and moaned as his aching body objected to his attempt to move. A gentle hand touched his cheek and he opened his eyes and smiled. This was the kind of dream that he wanted to have every night; waking into warm sunshine to find those azure blue eyes shining down on him.

"Vin." He tried to hold onto the dream but his eyes were too heavy, and he whispered softly to the beautiful apparition before a drugged sleep claimed him once more. "Don't go."

"Ain't going anywhere without you, Cowboy."

The softly spoken words followed him down into the darkness and when he awoke again he found Vin had kept his word. Vin was slumped into the seat beside his bed; his hair glinting all shades of red and brown in the sunlight bleeding through the open window. Several days' growth of whisker covered the lower half of Vin's face. Chris rubbed his own to find it rough, even though he had managed to scrape most of his beard away while in the infirmary after his fight with the Lawless brothers. His nose wrinkled up in distaste when he realized the stale smell came from his own body; the odor so obvious as it contrasted with the clean scent of his friend and lover.

Chris gasped as his small movement jarred the newly stitched gash in his side; his eyes closing tight as he tried to block out the pain. When he opened them he found Vin staring at him with those sky blue eyes filled with pleasure at seeing him awake.

"Need a bath."

"Yeah. You stink worse'n a musty old mule left out in the sun and rain too long."

"Gee thanks, Vin, for the kind words. Reckon I love you too." Chris looked away, realizing what he had just said in jest but knowing it was also the truth. He moved the subject on quickly. "So what does a man have to do to get a bath around here?"

"Stay out of the hole on bath night is what I figured."

Chris glared at Vin and then shook his head. None of the other prisoners had smelled as bad as he so the Warden must have given them enough water so they could wash at least once during his time here. Vin took pity on him.

"Reckon I can get some warm water drawn up for you to have a wash; though Simmons and Nathan said it ain't good to immerse yourself while you got them stitches in you."

"I'll take what I can get, Vin."

"Then I'll get you some water and a wash rag."

Ten minutes later, Vin returned and poured an ewer of hot water into the dead Warden's wash bowl. He carried it over to the side of the bed and handed a bar of soap and the cloth to Chris, fully aware that Chris wasn't about to let him help in any other way. Instead, Vin retook his seat and watched, his eyes hungrily following the cloth as Chris swiped it over the leaner lines of his grimy flesh.

"Damn if Mrs. Jenkins ain't gonna have a fit when she sees how thin you got. Could count you ribs from here if they weren't hidden 'neath all them bruises."

"Hope you haven't lost interest in my scrawny ass."

"Scrawny? Hell, Cowboy, scrawny would be an improvement. Just a bag of bones right now."

"Anyone ever tell you, you can take honesty too far on occasion?"

"Nope. I must've been brought up all wrong. Maybe someone should have tanned my hide more often. Teach me a lesson."

"Oh, I can fix that."

"You couldn't fix a bowl of beans right now."

"What time is it?"

"Almost noon."

"Then why are we still here?"

"Hell, Chris. You weren't in no fit shape to ride last night, and I'm not sure you're ready now."

Chris hissed and saw Vin wince in sympathy as Chris swiped the cloth over a particularly sore bruise on his left shoulder.

"Anyways, we're waiting on Buck and Ezra to return from Jericho. They've gone to wire the Judge. In the meantime, Josiah and a man named Philips are looking over the Warden's books to figure out who else shouldn't be here."

"Not spending another night here, Vin."

"Figured you'd say that so I told Buck to check that store for your clothes. They ain't around here so I figure Quince took them back for his Ma to wash and sell to that store keeper." Vin stood up and walked to the dresser, and when he turned around Chris saw his gun and black, studded gun belt in Vin's hands. "Nathan found your gun and rig in the store... that's how we knew you was around here some place."

Chris fingered the Colt; his hand fitting smoothly round the stag grip like a well-known and trusted friend.

"Thanks, Vin." He looked down at the gun for a time, enjoying the weight in his hand, and then he looked back up. "Was a time I reckoned you wasn't coming for me. Thought I'd driven you away."

"Spent a few long nights wondering the same thing. I was angry with you, Chris. Hell, I was furious. Figured you was taking Buck's advice too easy... and then, when you didn't come back..."

"You figured Buck had seen me right." Chris gave a wry grin. "Though I did find something special in Landen; but it's something I wanted to share with you. A troupe of actors came into town and there was one, by the name of Fabian, who made you feel you were right there when Mercutio was slain."

Vin gave a grin, and he must have been remembering when Chris had read aloud that scene to him from one of those books he loved, for he recalled a single line.

"A plague on both your houses."

"Yeah. That's the one."

The sound of horses drew Vin to the window. He looked back with a smile and Chris didn't need to ask if it was Buck and Ezra returning for, moments later, Buck stuck his head round the door.

"Sleeping Beauty woke up at last."

"Back sassing round these parts gets a man thrown in the hole, Buck."

"Like to see you try it, Chris." Buck sauntered in and dropped a pair of black pants, a white shirt and a waistcoat onto the end of the bed. "Rescued these from Ma Quince. She kindly washed and aired them for you, though don't bother thanking her 'cause she doing a little jail sitting right now... waiting on the Judge to arrive." Then he placed Chris's black, flat brimmed hat on top of the pile.

"Soon as I'm dressed I'm riding out of here."

Chris saw Buck's eyes rove down him, taking in the mottled bruising and his gaunt appearance.

"You ain't fit to ride, Chris. Probably fall off your horse before we get more than a few miles."

"Then we camp where I fall, but I'm not staying here a moment longer than I have to."

"Hell. To think I was worried you was gonna turn into one of them funny ladies. You're more cantankerous than ever."

"Cantankerous? You've been riding with Ezra too much."

"Don't you go changing the subject."

"I'm riding out of here, Buck."

"Fine." Buck slapped his hat against his thigh in frustration and stormed out, his parting words holding an empty threat. "I'll go get the horses ready but damned if I'm gonna pick you up off the dusty ground when you fall."

****

Vin listened as Josiah read out a list of names and then told those men they were free to go. He was pleased to see Doc Simmons' name among them, having gained a lot of respect for a man who had carried on doing what he could to ease the suffering of others despite all the injustice served upon him. However, what pleased Vin most was seeing the relieved grin on Chris's face.

Vin handed the reins over to Chris and tried not to be too obvious as he watched him mount up; half afraid Chris wouldn't have the energy to climb into the saddle and not wanting to see him fail. He breathed a sigh of relief as Chris swung his leg over and settled down with a small grimace. Chris nodded towards a motley group of inmates and saw the leader return the respectful gesture, and then he pulled on his hat; his face set tight with determination.

"Boys... let's get the hell out of here. Hyah! Come on!"

Vin quickly streaked ahead of the others, just as eager as Chris to get away from that place but also because he had a task to do. JD raced up to join him and Vin spared him a glance.

"Buck's right behind Chris, keeping a watch in case he looks like he's gonna fall."

"Then we camp where I fall," Chris had said, but Vin wasn't about to let that happen.

Last time he rode away from Chris like this he had a mind full of anger but this time he had a reason and a destination. If Buck was right then there was a good spot to set up camp about five miles distant, and Vin wanted to make certain Chris would have no choice but to stop there for the night.

As they galloped onwards Vin thought about the silent fury that could easily have destroyed everything he had with Chris; not just his own but also the unreasonable anger of others such as Buck, Sheriff Quince and the Warden. Each of them had this potential to hurt by making unjustified demands upon another; and each of them was capable of being hurt when those demands were not met.

Quince and the Warden had met their match when they sent their fury up against Chris's; discovering too late the truth of one of Josiah's many quotations: Beware the fury of a patient man. Chris had bided his time; waiting for the right opportunity to strike back at those who imprisoned and beat him so unjustly. Although Chris had yet to tell how he bested the Warden, it was obvious the man had died from a rattler bite, and Vin had seen for himself how Quince met his end.

As for Buck, they seemed to have come to some sort of understanding. Perhaps realizing what his fury might have cost him had brought Buck to his senses, and made him aware that he couldn't dictate another's chosen path - or their partner on that road. Vin just hoped the others would be as generous in nature when they discovered the truth of his relationship with Chris.

Vin pulled to a halt in the spot Buck had described, and he nodded his approval. It would be a good place to camp for the night and, if Chris was still unfit to ride tomorrow, then maybe he and Chris could send the others on ahead... and stay there alone for one day longer.

****

**Epilogue:**

When Vin suggested that the others ought to ride on back to town ahead of him and Chris, only Buck seemed a little uneasy and Vin thought he might find a reason to stay behind; to watch over them like some unwanted chaperon. Fortunately, JD mentioned one of Buck's favorite ladies and set Buck off on one of his flowery speeches discussing the virtues of that particularly voluptuous woman.

Vin waited until the others had ridden out of sight before he sat down next to Chris in the shade of hardy tree.

"How are you doing, Cowboy?"

"Sore."

"Nathan left me some liniment to spread over them bruises, and some paste for that gash. Why don't you strip off them clothes and once you've seen to that gash, I'll do the rest."

Part of the reason why Vin liked the place Buck had spotted was because it was secluded, and so there was no chance of anyone sneaking up on them unawares. Chris had noticed this too for he, willingly, began to strip off his clothing, and then he pulled off the bandage covering the wound. Once naked, he knelt down and then sat back on his heels; two fingers digging into the small ceramic pot Vin held out to him. He gritted his teeth as he stroked the thick paste over the new stitches; knowing it was worth the pain as the paste held properties that would keep infection at bay. Chris gave a ragged sigh when he finished, and wiped his hands on a rag Vin produced for that purpose. Vin helped him cover the wound with a fresh bandage and then he knelt down behind Chris.

Vin rubbed the liniment into the palms of his hands and then he brought them to the pale flesh. He massaged the taut muscles, feeling the knots ease, but took infinite care as his fingertips stroked over the mottled bruising. Some of the bruises were yellowed with age while others were a vivid purple and green; looking like they had been made only yesterday. Chris hissed in pain several times despite Vin's attempt to keep his touches light over those areas.

"Why don't you lie down on your belly? Let me get to your legs."

Chris lowered himself, gingerly, to the ground on top of the blanket he had spread out earlier. He lay his head down on his forearms, his body tilted slightly to favor the gash on his left side. Vin smiled at the moan of pure pleasure as his hands massaged the firm curves of the pale ass. His fingers dug in deeper, feeling the tense muscle loosen, and then he moved down to pay equal attention to the back of each thigh.

"Damn, that feels good, Vin."

Vin bit down on his lower lip in anger when he saw the bruising at the back of Chris's knees; well aware of how Chris must have come by those. A hard stick whacked against the back the knees could bring down the strongest of men, and it pained him to know Chris had endured such cruelty and degradation. He rubbed the liniment over the area with great care and then moved lower to massage the tight calf muscles and then each foot in turn.

"Turn over."

Vin waited patiently as Chris eased his battered body over and then he sat back to admire the lean figure, his eyes traveling over every inch of flesh. He frowned at the bruises marring the ivory skin and gave lustful approval of the rest. He grinned down at Chris and, instead of dipping his fingers into the liniment once more, Vin began to strip off his own clothing. The burning desire glinting in Chris's half-closed eyes sent flames of passion flickering through his veins; turning his blood to liquid fire. By the time he had dropped the last of his clothing to the dusty ground and knelt down beside Chris, his body was aflame with desire.

With trembling hands, he scooped more of the liniment onto his fingers and began to smooth it over the strongly muscled chest. One finger swirled around a dusky pink nipple and Chris moaned each time Vin's fingernail scraped across the puckered flesh. Chris groaned in dismay when Vin began to massage his biceps instead of continuing his ministrations on each nipple; taking each arm in turn and working his way down to the tips of Chris's fingers.

"Vin?"

Vin chuckled softly as Chris wriggled his hips but he had a lot more teasing to do before he turned his caress to that particular area. As he lowered Chris's second hand to the blanket, Vin eased back and then leaned over, his tongue lapping across a stiffened nipple, bringing a gasp of pleasure spilling from Chris.

"Damn tease."

Vin laughed softly and moved down to massage the strong thigh muscles, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of inner thigh with each stroke; grazing the heavy sac with tauntingly light caresses. Chris groaned when Vin leaned over and sucked on the taut sac unable to buck as Vin's hands held his thighs firmly in place - and then Vin pulled away again.

"Dammit, Vin."

"Got something in mind."

Vin crawled up, turned and straddled Chris. Leaning forward - supported by a single arm - he grabbed his own hard shaft and rubbed the tip against Chris's soft lips, moaning as a rough tongue eased out to lick at the sensitive bundle of nerves. He cried out as those lips parted to take him deep inside the wet heat of Chris's mouth. For a moment, Vin reveled in the sensations as Chris sucked on him, and then he let go of his shaft, leaving it to Chris's tender mercy. Using both arms to support him, Vin lowered his head and stared at the hard flesh of Chris's erection. He lapped at the dewdrop of precome beading at the slit, savoring the unique musk and taste of his lover. Chris arched up, thrusting his hips towards the teasing mouth.

"Easy, Cowboy. Don't want to tear them stitches again."

Chris mumbled something indecipherable, the words reverberating over the sensitive flesh still held in Chris's hot mouth, but the raking of sharp teeth made his message clear. Vin drew the thick head of Chris's shaft into his mouth; his tongue pressing hard against the sensitive tip. He moved one forearm to cross the muscular thighs, pinning Chris down to stop him thrusting his hips upwards, and then he began to suck hard while working his tongue over that special place. His own body was starting to tremble now as Chris's agile tongue and perfect lips worked their magic on him. He could feel his pleasure rising; could feel his balls tightening as a warmth smoothed over his ragged nerves. His mouth was filled with bittersweet juices as Chris came hard, spurting deep inside his mouth, almost gagging him as the stream hit the back of his throat. He swallowed around the thick shaft, wanting every last droplet of this most precious gift but cried out as his own climax overtook him; sending his senses spinning.

When he had pumped every last drop into his lover's accepting mouth, Vin pulled away, carefully moving to one side and collapsing with his head lying upon the juncture of Chris's right thigh and belly. He didn't move again for several minutes except to lick at the droplets of come that had spilled onto his lips, but once he regained control of his ragged breathing, he turned and crawled up to lie down beside Chris.

"Still okay, Cowboy."

"Okay? I'm better than okay... now..... though I reckon I might still not be fit to travel by tomorrow."

Vin laughed softly before sharing one of those gentle kisses with his lover; one where passion was spent leaving room only for love. A smile curled his lips at the thought of staying here longer - together - and he started to draw up a plan to keep them here; the shrill cry of a hawk passing overhead adding its own unique approval.

THE END


End file.
